More Things in Heaven and Earth
by wiltingduck
Summary: Sam and Dean had thought they had seen it all, or well at least most of it. They never expected this. A normal hunt goes funky, Dean is even shorter than Sam, wait where is Sam? De-aging, world travelling - I have no idea where this is coming from...
1. This Isn't Asterix

**Chapter 1**

**I don't own anything...I am very poor :)**

**Enjoy.**

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><p>If someone told him a few years ago that going to hunt down and kill a suspected gang of vampires would be relaxing he would've shot them in the foot. Now with Hell behind him and the prospect of the Holy Apocalypse in front of him it was practically a vacation to do something not involving angels or demons. Just him, Sam and a pack of blood sucking soon to be dead vamps.<p>

Bobby had set them up with the hunt, giving them a call out to a city no more than three hours drive from Sioux Falls. The hunt was great, another generic motel, an ignorant police force. Really it was enough to put a decent smile on Dean's face.

"What is up with you Dean? Not that I'm complaining but you're looking far too cheerful, should I be worried?" Sam asked with a smile to mirror his own.

"What's wrong with enjoying a good old fashioned hunt?" Dean replied "A stakeout in the Impala with my brother by my side and a pack of vampires to take out. What's not to love?" he said as he stretched out properly.

"You have a seriously messed up idea of fun" Sam laughed at his brother before frowning "though it's easy for you to relax at a stakeout, you're short enough to sit comfortably".

Dean turned his head and raised his eyebrow; "You know if you're bored you could always go get us something to eat? I'm sure I saw a gas station down the road somewhere?" He asked innocently. "Besides I don't think anything's going to happen here tonight. It's almost morning"

Sam rolled his eyes "Only because I'm starving too" he said as he opened the door.

Dean snorted "Good luck out there"

Sam was outside the car when he replied "I'll be on the lookout for the terror of high gas prices. I'll be back in a minute" He said as he closed the door.

"Smartass" Dean called as Sam left.

Dean relaxed back into his seat. He was relaxed but aware; there had been no sign of activity inside the warehouse they were watching and it was unlikely that vampires would be hunting this close to sunrise.

Sams research and the information they had gathered from the victims homes had lead them to this abandoned looking building deep in the towns quiet industrial area. They had tracked the victims shared histories of arrest and their lack of money to a bail loan company. A little digging in the town records and here they were sitting outside the supposed office space of a company who's customers mysteriously disappeared before turning up drained of blood.

If there was one thing that put a kink in Dean's hunt it was that while the investigation came together easily enough, it seemed like the vamps were putting together a company just for the reason of luring victims in. It all seemed a bit complicated for a pack of blood thirsty monsters. Maybe they were wrong and it was just a coincidence?

Even so he kept a wary eye out as he half hoped for an uneventful night.

It was not his lucky night.

Keeping his movements limited Dean pulled out his phone and dialled Sam's number. The phone rang as a group of four walked on the opposite side of the road from the Impala; towards the building. The first rays of sun were coming up but even in the dark Dean could see the struggles of a woman held between two tall men. A second woman, tall, blond and beautiful walked like world was hers in front of the other three.

Cursing when Sam didn't pick up Dean collected his weapons and stashed them on himself. Leaving a quick voicemail Dean steeled himself to go in alone. Sam would catch up, Dean could handle three vampires by himself. He had to get the woman away from them. The group had already entered the building and Dean was intent to follow.

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><p>Cursing his lack of backup he eased open the front door. Going up against three vamps meant he needed all the advantages he could get, so stealth first, brute force a quick second.<p>

Gripping the handle of his machete he slipped through the entrance into a dimly lit room. A quick glance told him that it was clear and he moved forward towards the door leading off what appeared to be a dusty and abandoned receptionist area.

The next door was already open. He quietly moved: the dark sending adrenaline pumping through his body. Breathing barely a whisper he made his way into the next room.

It was dark for a moment, his eyes sliding over the shadowy features of a room he couldn't see. He made to reach for a light switch before the room was lit with no clear source.

His back against the wall he tried to identify where the unnatural light was coming from and realized that the whole room was impossible. He may not have memorised blue prints but he knew that there was no way the room could stretch out that far back on the industrial street. That and the giant tree growing out of the concrete with the three people standing around it just gave him the creeps.

The woman was tied up, lying on the roots of the tree, still struggling. Not too late then.

Two of the vamps looked up, the other just kept his gaze on the tree.

"Dean Winchester"

Dean looked at the tall, blonde woman who had spoken; she was looking at him with both surprise and a little bit of amusement. Dean felt a sinking feeling; most of the things he hunted who knew him weren't amused to see him. She was holding a long whip between her fingers, twisting it around her palm to make a fist around it.

"If you know who I am then you know what I'm here to do." Dean said as he moved forward.

"Taranis" The woman nodded in assent to the man standing next to her. "Gently though".

The broad shouldered man with way too much hair grinned and moved with a manic unrestrained air. Laughing he lifted his arms towards the roof and the room flashed. For a moment Dean could have sworn that the branches of the tree reached through the roof. Like the roof wasn't even there. He didn't have long to falter because the flash was accompanied by a bang and he found himself on his back. His knife had been flung away and his eyes were desperately trying to adjust back to the soft light of the normal room.

Whatever just happened he knew one thing; these guys weren't vampires.

Not wanting to be lying defenseless around the creeps Dean struggled to his feet, frantically blinking away the last of the spots.

The woman lying bound on the base of the tree was sobbing now and Dean was really starting to want Sam to show up right about now.

"How fortuitous for us that you were dropped right into our laps." The woman was speaking again. "Really fate has been kind to us don't you think brothers?" She asked as she leant against the tree.

"Shall we not just kill him now Esus?" Taranis replied, Dean tensed as he watched the twitching hands of the hulking man.

Esus moved away from the tree with a languid walk, she tugged on the beard of her fellow and seemed replied fondly "And just let those little idiots bring him back to life?" A second more violent tug " If you don't have anything smart to say why don't you just let me do the talking?"

The room seemed to echo with a faint rumble before Taranis tore himself free and huffed angrily.

Dean met eyes with the woman on the floor. The confusion and the pleading, the fear, was more than enough to push him into action.

"Listen, I don't know who you are or what you want with me but let me tell you, you're not getting anything from me unless you let her go" Dean said as he moved forward again.

He was close enough to Esus that he could see her perfectly shaped eyebrows once against rise in surprise.

"Honestly Dean, I had forgotten about her. You make a far more interesting reward". She tilted her head condescendingly "And do you really think you could give us anything that we couldn't just take from you without your will?" Esus gave a little smile.

"Kill her Toutatis"

Dean scowled and reached into his jacket for his second knife, moving to rush the silent man before he could reach the bound woman. Toutatis didn't even blink but Dean never reached him. The sting of the whip around his arm and the strength the bearer possessed had him overbalancing; twisting uncomfortably to his side to stop from falling.

He quickly transferred the knife to his other hand and made to cut the leather but his knife simply slipped off it. Struggling against the pull was useless against Esus. After a moment of frenzied pulling the fact that Toutatis still hadn't moved had both Esus and Dean pause.

"What are you doing? Kill her!"

Toutatis looked up mournfully, "The rituals?"

Esus made a noise of frustration as she released the whip and hit Dean on the sternum with the flat of her palm with enough force to both wind him and send him flying.

"I have to do everything around here." Dean heard as he struggled for breath on the floor.

The next thing he heard was the unmistakable and sickening sound of breaking bone.

"Screw you" He spat out as he lifted himself off the floor once more. He turned back towards the three threats. He glared at Esus as she stood above the woman whose head was facing at an unnatural angle, he didn't even know her name.

"What the hell do you want?" He questioned voice rough with anger.

Taranis stood crackling with energy and a savage eagerness, Toutatis simply stood; his face an empty mask, Esus however staked forward with a predatory smile.

"What do we want?" She laughed, "We are the triad that used to have power, used to be more than myth and used to be more than story. People would voluntarily give up their lives for us, they would worship us and spill blood for us" She was close enough now that Dean could see the anger in her dark eyes. "We want it back and that is never going to happen if –you – still – exist" She emphasized each word with a finger poke to Deans chest.

"The _angels _and the _demons _and their ridiculous war are going to take away everything! And the only way to stop them is to stop you" She paused, "No. No stopping you is impossible here, you cannot be killed on our battlefield."

She gestured the others forwards and Dean took an involuntary step back. The look on her face told him he should probably be running right now. The sudden but bruising grip on his already sore wrist made him grit his teeth as the knife dropped from his hand.

"We may not have the strength of our past but we are still gods are we not? People will remember our names forever, let us remind them why!"

She finished her sentence with a roar, unnaturally loud with a force that pushed Dean to his knees. Ears ringing he moved to grip his head in an instinctive response to fend off the growing pressure. His right wrist still in the unmovable grip of Esus he was forced to the ground.

"Goodbye Dean" The god whispered against his ear as she pushed, and pushed him, pushed him through the ground and out of reality.

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><p><strong>Meh weird start. I just really love obscure gods (these guys are a bit odd, after researching how people actually got sacrificed to these guys I think random woman would be relieved with a nice broken neck).<strong>

**-Anyway.**


	2. Sweet Child O' Mine

**Chapter 2 **

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><p>Dean felt like he had been pulled apart and put back together, badly. He wanted to groan but he also wanted to go back into the blissful darkness that he woke from.<p>

He tried to remember why in the hell he ended up feeling like he'd been run over but his memory was faltering in the was that suggested he had been knocked over the head one too many times recently. Whatever hunt they had been on must have gone nasty. They.

Where was Sam?

Clenching his hands into fists beneath him he tried to push himself up from the ground. He couldn't move. His arms began to shake before he barely made any process to sitting up. He still couldn't open his eyes.

He curled into a fetal position and began to take inventory of his body. He could move his toes, his ankles, heck he could even move his tongue he discovered as he managed a weak cough. Nothing was broken, nothing was bruised, but he was filled with a gradually fading disconnection from his body, moving anything felt like moving through mud.

The searing pain gradually faded along with the fear of what he would see if he opened his eyes. As his brain reorganized itself, he bought his hands up to his face and opened his eyes just a slit.

The world was tilted, blurred. He could see dust in the sunbeams through the gaps in the roof. That's not right, he could remember the roof. It had no holes; the tree… the tree had branches that reached to the roof.

He remembers

"Shit".

This time he managed a proper groan. "What the hell happened?" He pushed his palms against the floor and made it onto his back. He blinked rapidly to allow his eyes adjust. Man he felt weird.

Gathering his strength he heaved himself into a sitting position. He blinked a few more times. Something was very wrong. He flexed his toes. The toes that poked out of a pair of blue flannel pajamas were tiny. They moved with a little wriggle.

"Shit"

How had he not heard it earlier? That was not his voice. That was not the voice that gave monsters nightmares, the voice that could swagger into a police station with confidence, could take a woman home.

This was the voice that a woman tucked into bed at night with a kiss on the forehead and a gentle 'Angels are watching over you'.

He lifted his hands, his unmarked, clean and _tiny _hands.

"_Holy _Shit"

Panic made adrenaline pump through his system as his heart beat faster than it had in a twenty years. It made him panic more and soon he was on his feet. Ignoring the _long?_ Hair that tickled his ears he moved to where he knew the door would be.

He had to find Sam. They had to fix this.

There was no sign of anyone else but that meant nothing, he had to get out of here. He made his way to the back of the room. Unlike the last time he went through the door it was not just open; it was on its hinges. The whole place was a mess.

A flash of movement made him pause. Hyperaware and feeling vulnerable he turned his head; trying to find the source of movement.

It was a mirror.

Covered in dust and leaning broken against the wall it had fell from. It still reflected. Dean wiped frantically against the surface with the sleeve of the pajamas, feeling his own fear grow as the reflection became more than just a dusty blur.

He stared at the child. The child stared back. "I've got to go. I've got to get out of here." The wide eyes of the child stared back as he mimicked Dean. Dean couldn't move. It was as if he could stand still long enough maybe the child would go and he would be able to just walk away from this fricken mess.

The child didn't move. Dean closed his eyes. He moved back one, two steps. He spun around and went straight to the door that would lead to the street. His momentum halted as he reached straight for the door handle. A muffled noise of frustration, a desperate jump and he was out.

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><p>The asphalt felt like daggers. His couldn't remember the last time his feet were this soft and un-callused but he gritted his teeth and kept walking. The Impala hadn't been parked where he had left it but he knew where the motel was. He would get there.<p>

It was well and truly night, no matter how long he had been in the warehouse a whole day couldn't have passed? This whole thing was putting him on edge, this was making less sense than his life normally did. He tried not to run from all the shadows in the streets but they were so much bigger, they could hide so much more. For what seemed like hours he ducked behind corners to avoid cars. He hid silent from the odd walker.

He averted his gaze from anything reflective.

Just as he was worried he was lost (non of the landmarks seemed to be where they should be) he found himself on the right street. The beginnings of what might be relief began to grow in him; he stamped it down.

The Impala wasn't in the parking lot.

Dean drew in a shaky breath and resisted the urge to curl up in a ball and cradle his sore feet. He still has the motel room. Even if he can't find Sam he has somewhere to lay low for a few hours until they can find each other again.

He tries the door to the unit but of course it's locked. He doesn't have any keys in these damn pajamas. He has nothing to break into the place the normal way with, he will have to be a bit more creative. Circling around the back of the block of units he picks his way through the thin strip of rubbish and overgrown grass that separates the back from the fence. Hoping he doesn't stand on any glass or accidently uncover a rabid dog or something he sees what he was looking for; the bathroom window.

It's tiny. He shouldn't be able to fit.

Still he gets inside after some difficult fence climbing, clinging onto the fence and prying open a window with small fingers shouldn't have been that hard.

He carefully lowered himself onto the back of the toilet; he would never hear the end of it from Sam if he ended up in the toilet bowl. Ignoring the few red marks his feet leave behind he dropped to the floor and crept around the dark corner to the beds.

"Sammy?"

There was no answer. Both the beds were empty. Where there stuff should have been there was a neat and efficiently packed opened travelling suitcase. He couldn't be in the wrong room could he? Double checking to make sure he was alone he slowly calmed down. Maybe this was some weird time travel thing. That happened right?

A glance at the radio clock on the bedside table showed that this wasn't time travel. The date was right; everything else was wrong. What could have happened in the day that he had lost? Where was Sam?

He rubbed his hands over his face and kept going. He went through the bag on the bed and while some of the clothes may have fit him yesterday there wasn't a single thing in there that was going to fit him at the moment. Still he took two pairs of socks and a sweatshirt. And the money he found hidden away in the false pocket. He let out a breath of relief. Money would help.

After wiping off his feet, trying not to wince, he gently pulled both pairs of socks on. They were soon overheating but at least he could walk with a little protection. The sweatshirt was more ridiculous but need won over pride and as soon as he rolled up the sleeved he moved to the phone and began to dial all the numbers he could remember.

...

"Not in service"

...

"Sorry doesn't live here, how old are you?"

...

"_"

"What are you doing calling this time of night, some kind of punk are ya?"

...

"Not in service"

...

On and on, till he was through all Sam's, all his, Bobby's, everyone's. Not a single person answered that he knew, some didn't ring at all.

He gripped the phone tightly, his small hand slipping on the plastic headset. He would not panic. He would just go to Bobby's. It wasn't far. He couldn't walk it. He couldn't drive it. He looked again at the money. He could do it.

He closed the door behind him and walked away from the motel. He had a plan, Sam would say it was a terrible plan (and he'd probably be right) but Sam wasn't here and it was all he could think of.

Who needed money badly enough that they didn't care about where it came from?

He walked back the way he came. Some of the shadows he's walked home were home to more than just monsters.

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><p>He regretted now not taking a knife from the motel kitchenette. Stupid mistake. The money was well hidden behind the bulk of the borrowed sweatshirt. It would be enough, he only hoped it wouldn't get him killed.<p>

"You're a little young to be wandering around here aren't you kid?"

Dean spun to face the talker. Stupid, stupid, how had he not seen him?

"Easy there" The man said raising his arms palms up. "You get lost on the way to bed?"

Dean scowled as he took in the stranger. The warm but old clothes, looking a little ragged, a little hungry. Perfect.

"You live around here?" Dean asked as loud as he could force his voice to go.

The man raised a dark eyebrow looked down in bemusement "As a matter of fact, you're standing on my doorstep."

Dean looked at the collection of tarpaulin and supports. He nodded.

"You want to make some money?" Dean asked as seriously as he could.

The stranger guffawed "Coming from you kid? You don't even have shoes."

Dean was beginning to think that maybe this wasn't his best idea.

"Get me to Sioux Falls, and then you can tell me if I have money or not."

The stranger frowned and looked closer at Dean. "You're serious aren't you kid, where are your parents?"

"I don't have any parents" Dean replied shortly.

"Tell me why I shouldn't call the police and get them to haul your ass back to wherever you came from?"

Dean frowned, this had to work; "Cause I wouldn't stay there".

"How much money are we talking here?" The homeless man asked.

Dean grinned. Maybe not a great plan, but it was going to work.

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><p>One stolen car later and the unlikely pair were driving. Dean felt better now he wasn't just alone with his reflection, he was moving. He was going to find Bobby; he was going to find Sam.<p>

"So when I get arrested for carjacking as well as kidnapping you'll still visit me in prison right?" Asked the amused and somewhat confused driver.

"You're not going to be arrested, besides I've broken out of prison before. I'd get you out." Dean said with a grin.

"Now let's see if this hunk of junk has got a decent radio". Dean finished as he browsed the frequencies for anything that wasn't early morning talk shows.

"Why am I doing this?" The driver asked himself with an touch of regret in his voice.

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><p><strong>Right. Plot. What am I writing? Exam stress created a very odd plot bunny.<br>****If you're wondering why Dean is so strange (it may be my ****questionable writing ability) but hopefully you're picking up on the whole grown man + kids body = messed up emotions/thought process/just confusing for everyone. Also watching Asterix and Cleopatra at the moment. I have an exam in 6 days...**

**-Anyway**


	3. Enough to Make a Grown Man Cry

**Chapter 3**

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><p>They didn't talk much for the drive; Dean because every time he spoke he was got pissed off with his voice. His companion 'the man who actually did have a name you can use, it's Barry call me Basil' because everything that came out of Dean's mouth seemed to terrify the man more than he found it amusing.<p>

After a while the rhythmic sound of the car was almost enough to send Dean to sleep. He could almost imagine he was in the Impala and if he turned his head he could see his brother beside him instead of a smelly ginger man that didn't seem to have any idea why he actually doing what a kid was telling him. His head fell forward again and he jerked himself upright.

He couldn't sleep, not till he found Bobby. He rested his head against the window, letting the uncomfortable bumps keep him alert. He tried not to think about it but it had been hours now since he first woke up in the warehouse. His accidental glances at his hands and snatches of reflections in windows were enough to remind him that he very much was not okay. He needed to sort this out quick too because if anyone or anything saw him like this it would be a lot more than just hurt pride he would be concerned about. He wasn't scared. He, this was just impractical.

It was a longer drive back to Sioux falls than it was from it but that was probably because the red beat up truck they had taken was just not up to standard with the Impala. Never the less they arrived and Dean shoves his hands back out the sleeves of the over large sweatshirt.

"Thanks Basil" He reached under his shirt and pulled out all the cash he had stolen. He hadn't counted it but it had to be a couple hundred at least. "You probably want to ditch the car soon" He said as he handed it over and wretched his door open. He jumped down and pretended the landing wasn't jarring; he missed the Impala, and longer legs.

"You sure you're going to be alright by yourself kid?" Basil called out from where he was counting money it the drivers seat. "You got family in there?"

Dean laughed, "You've got the money, just forget you ever saw me".

"You are one weird kid," Basil shouted as Dean shut the door behind him and tried not to break into a run as he got closer and closer to the familiar house.

He avoided the rubbish in the yard with his socked feet and made it to the front door, he knocked, he knocked again. The relief of finding that he had finally found somewhere familiar faded slightly as his third knock went unanswered. He found the spare key and opened the door himself.

"Bobby?" His call went out to the house and was unreturned.

He crept around the place cursing Bobby's stacks of books that doubled as tripping hazards. Did the man never spring clean? Still he made into the study without doing too much harm and when he finally accepted that there was no sign of Bobby he noticed the walls. His blood ran cold.

Sam was on the walls. His pictures were everywhere; pinned to a map with small handwritten notes littering the surface. Sam was a hunt. There was a red circle on the map. Bobby had already left. Left to go after Sam?

"Why would Bobby hunt Sam?" Dean questions as his hands coming up to tug on an amulet that wasn't around his neck. "What is going on?"

The papers on the wall rustled gently in the breeze. He hadn't left the door open.

"You know what, I was about to ask you the same question."

Dean whirled around and for the first time in what felt like a lifetime he thought he might cry from relief.

"Sam!"

Sam looked confused and it took Dean a moment as to why his brothers face hadn't softened in recognition. It was the first moment he found it funny. Grinning he looked up, and up and up at Sam.

"It's me Sam; it's Dean. I have no idea what happened after the warehouse but I woke up like this, and I had no idea where you were." Dean explained. He made to move towards his brother but realized he would have to do some more explaining if he was to be believed.

"It really i-" He was cut off by Sam.

"I don't know any Deans"

Dean paused. He hadn't been expecting that. He blinked and frowned up at Sam. "Sam, what are you talking about? It's me, you know, your brother." He stated confused.

"I think I would remember having a brother" Sam said laughing down at Dean. "And unless my father was having more fun than I thought a few years ago you can't be my brother".

"Cut it out Sammy, I know I don't look it but I'm Dean. Your older brother." Dean said a little freaked out. Sam didn't look right; now that he had gotten past the initial relief of finding him something was just wrong.

"I would definitely remember having an older brother" Sam said swiftly.

"Who are you? How did you get into Bobby's house?" Sam accused.

"Sam, I don't know why you don't remember me. Something is wrong, we can fix it though Sammy." Dean pleaded, this was so much worse than not being able to find Sam at all. "You've got to believe me."

"You certainly look convinced about who you are" Sam said "It's been a while since anyone has argued against me. But you can't be right"

Dean wasn't afraid of his brother.

"Listen, you will, we grew up together. You and me in the Impala. I've looked after you my whole life."

"The only thing I remember is my father and I, hunting things." Sam smiled before he finished bitterly "Saving people".

Dean looked up and he could see it. He could see this wasn't his Sammy. Everything was wrong.

"Why is Bobby hunting you?" Dean asked him quietly.

"On the road for my whole life. Doing what my father asked of me my whole life" Sam ignored Dean's question and kept talking, "I pulled the trigger when he said, wendigo, ghosts, werewolves I pulled the trigger. Eventually when the demon got to him I did the right thing. I pulled that trigger" Sam stopped for a breath.

"Who are you really kid?" Sam asked.

"You killed Dad?" Dean asked in a whisper as he looked up at Sam.

"I killed the demon inside him. His death was unavoidable" Sam said it all with a straight face like he believed that the death of a demon was worth the death of their dad.

"What have you done?"

"I became strong enough so that I would never have to use a gun again" Sam said with a twisted smile.

Dean's mind was frozen, like trying to see through shattered glass. He could see the black flashes in Sam's eyes and he felt like covering his own and hiding from whatever was happening.

"Demon blood." Dean said, "You've been drinking demon blood".

Sam looked suspicious for a moment, before flicking to being amused.

"Really where did you come from? You are interesting. How do you know that?" Sam said as he moved towards Dean

"Sam look I can help you, me and Bobby we can help you." Dean claimed as he strained not to take a nervous step back from his own brother.

"I don't _need _help" Sam answered, "I can do anything now, no one can tell me what to do." He was right in front of Dean now.

"Sammy plea-" Dean started before he was cut off by the hands of his brother around his throat.

"I don't need help, I don't need pity. I am who I was meant to be".

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><p><strong>Woo I am churning these out. Though this chapter is tiny it's cause there's a longer one coming! <strong>

**-Anyway**


	4. There must be some way out of here

**Chapter 4**

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><p>"Sam. Please you're a good person" Dean spluttered against the hold around his throat. His hands tried weakly to grasp at his brother's, tried to find anything he could use to pull himself up and breath.<p>

Sam's lips curled into a smile. They were at eye level with each other and Dean could see no remorse or hesitation through the increasing blur of his vision.

"I am _not_ a good person".

"Damn right you're not. Put the boy down you bastard, I didn't think kids were your thing"

Dean felt a surge of hope. Bobby was here. They help Sam.

Even as Sam chuckled humorlessly his grip on Dean loosened as he was lowered to the floor. Dean collapsed onto all fours as soon as he was no longer supported. He tried in vain to stand but his body overrode his will with its desire to get the now available oxygen. He could do nothing but gasp as this Sam dismissed him and approached their father figure.

"Bobby! I assume you're going to kill me?" Sam said in a chillingly pleasant tone.

Bobby looked grim. "You knew this was never going to end any other way. I owe it to your Dad to put you down before you hurt anyone else".

At this Sam turned sour. "You owe my Dad? What good did he ever do anyone?"

"More good than you've done boy." Bobby replied as he pulled out a knife.

Sam snarled and a wave of energy radiated outward from him, knocking Dean backwards and the knife from Bobby's grip. "As if you could kill me! As if anyone could even touch _me_!"

Dean watched as Sam raised his arm towards Bobby. Bobby's face began to redden as he fought with the invisible hands around his throat, his feet kicking as they lost purchase with the floor.

With his mustered courage and energy Dean pushed himself to his feet. Yelling and pushing wasn't his best plan but he was out of options and out of time. Even though he connected with Sam's legs at a laughable height the fact that Sam had appeared to forget Dean was there in the first place broke his concentration.

It was tiniest slip, just enough for a short glance full of annoyance. Just enough for a steadying of feet.

Just enough for a single gun shot.

Dean whipped his head around to look at the source. Standing steady, the barrel of the colt still steady and pointing towards Sam's chest, was Bobby. No.

Sam fell.

Dean was there pushing with weak arms and small hands against his shoulders. Pulling hair out of his brother's face.

"Sammy. Sam, Come on. You're okay, you're all right. Sammy". Dean kept up his frantic mantra as he looked into Sam's vacant eyes, hands framing his face.

His voice became obscured as the feeling of panic grew in his stomach, causing his throat to close up and tears to form. He jerked away from the empty looking eyes and slack mouth and attempted to put pressure on the bullet wound.

Fingers stained red he yelled as he was pulled away from his brother. Wordlessly shouting he fought Bobby's strong hold, squirming until he was free. Falling back to his knees he lurched forwards, attempting to remain as close as possible. Everything was wrong and Sam was meant to be fine. They had been fine, everything had been fine. So he pretended Sam's still warm skin meant a pulse and closed his eyes and – and - and.

Bobby's second attempt was far more successful, though it was more to do with the anticipation of resistance than any lack of.

"Jesus kid" Bobby said a little overwhelmed trying to pin Dean's arms and legs. "What in the hell did he do to you?"

Dean struggled as Bobby picked him up, using his own body to block Dean's view of Sam. Dean tried to get out of the grip keeping him still tucked against Bobby's chest. "He's my brother. He's my Sammy. He can't die" Dean gasped out, his breath coming too quickly now as fear replaced the panic.

Bobby just held him tighter and moved, half jogging, out of the room. Dean felt another wave of panic grip him and his breathing became too much, like someone had punched a hole inside his chest and then proceeded to start squeezing his lungs.

Distantly he was aware of cursing and the sound of a door opening. Then he was released from Bobby's hold. He was sitting, arms and legs free, but moving them seemed harder than ever before. Blinking he could see so much, so much out there and Sam was lying inside needing his help.

Everything was horrifying.

Then there were hands, one large hand covering his eyes. Another rubbing his back. The suggestion to breathe. His breath hitched, his mouth open and gasping at nothing. Another. An inhale, a collapse. A hand switching from his back to his shoulder keeping him upright.

There was a reassurance. "Just keep your eyes closed, good boy." The sudden absence of touch and then a heavy settling of material around his shoulders. A solid presence enveloping him, keeping his on his seat. A gentle hand guiding him down, a parting brush against his head.

"I'll be right back. Just – just stay there".

Dean curled around himself, lying with a sense he had been injured and didn't know where yet. Nothing but the desire to protect his vital organs and the comfort that darkness would bring.

* * *

><p>Dean woke to the one of the only bedrooms in the world he could claim as home. The familiar house had meant safety for as long as he had known how unsafe most of the world really was. Instinct caused him to glance up for his brother in the bed next to him.<p>

Except he wasn't home. Sam wasn't there. Sam was dead and Bobby had killed him and nothing made sense.

He pushed the weight of the blanket off his shoulders and slipped from the bed. A lifetime of action and responding had taught him that sometimes the feeling of grief could be pushed into numbness if he had something to do. He would do anything not to feel right now.

The walk down the stairs felt unreal; like each laboring step was going to take him to a scene from his childhood. Maybe Dad had left Sammy and him here with Bobby for the weekend?

There was no mark on the floor. Nothing huge. Just a small, innocent looking patch of wood: his brother had died there.

Dean slid down in a cross-legged position, sitting supported by the wall.

"How're you feeling?"

He didn't notice Bobby's entrance. Dean didn't reply instead ignoring him and gripping a bunch of his own shirt in his fist.

"What's your name?" Bobby tried again.

Dean looked up at Bobby then and imagined the amusement everyone normally would share about his predicament. He couldn't imagine laughing ever again.

"It's me Bobby, it's Dean" He rasped out, his throat still tender from his strangulation.

Bobby just looked down at him again, this time confused. "I don't know you kid."

Dean sighed. "That's cause I'm not a kid, it's me; Dean Winchester. I don't know how but what you sent us to hunt were no vampires, they did this to me."

There was a pause long enough to cause Dean to look up at Bobby. The man was gripping doorframe with a white knuckled grip.

"That's impossible" Bobby answered.

"What?" Dean replied confused.

"Dean Winchester?" Bobby asked

"Yes"

"Son of John and Mary Winchester?"

"Yes"

"Died in a big old demon house fire with Mary when you were four years old?"

Dean gripped his shirt tighter, a vicious hope sparking deep within his grief.

"No."

"That's impossible" Bobby repeated.


End file.
